Sage and friendly advice for aspiring
scribes
By SAMANTHA PUCKETT
St. Petersburg Times, published September 15, 2002

IMAGINE THIS: You have been introduced to an established,
respectable writer, and she likes you - a lot. So much, in fact,
that she spends hours and hours giving you advice about writing
and living a writer's life. She opens up to you about her painful
family history, about which of her peers she respects and which
she can't stand. She's funny and sassy; she cracks you up when
she makes fun of Philip Roth. She gives you commonsense advice
like: You must write "a thousand words a day. Five days a
week. For the rest of your life." She also tells you to do
clever things like write charming notes to people you don't know,
and why that's a good idea. And she has faith in you.

What's more, you get to absorb all this sage advice while having
a really good time - in your pajamas, whenever you want; five
minutes at a time or five hours at a time. And for this, all you
have to do is take one itsy bitsy trip to the bookstore and drop
$23.95.

Sound good? Then go out and buy Making a Literary Life: Advice
for Writers and Other Dreamers by Carolyn See (Random House, 260
pp).

Road map to the literary world
Reviewed by Joanna Smith Rakoff

Aspiring writers could easily stock their bookshelves with nothing
but writing manuals. Each season, scores of them appear, the majority
penned by writers with few (or no) other books to their name.
It's kind of strange, isn't it, that we're willing to take advice
on writing from the likes of, say, Natalie Goldberg, who made
her debut in 1986 with "Writing Down the Bones," a New
Age-inflected collection of writing exercises that remains a perennial
favorite with creative-writing profs.

It wasn't until 1995, nearly a decade later, that her first and
only (published) novel hit bookstores, to a thundering silence
from critics. That same year, Anne Lamott set a new standard for
books on writing, eschewing both the touchy-feely approach of
Goldberg and the strict how-to format of books with titles like
"Self-Editing for Writers." In "Bird by Bird,"
the Northern California novelist and memoirist used her trademark
humor and bracing honesty to describe the often-brutal process
of writing and the always-brutal publishing industry, weaving
personal stories and anecdotes with hard-core advice about plot,
character and dialogue.

Now, Southern California novelist and memoirist Carolyn See ("The
Handyman";
"Dreaming") has followed suit, offering up her own cranky
take on both the process and the business of slinging words about.
Like Lamott, See is a plainspoken, folksy sort of writer, and
in many ways, "Making a Literary Life" fills in the
spaces left blank by Lamott, who remained curiously silent on
certain crucial subjects -- like revision (a task See finds so
daunting she often drinks a glass of red wine while tackling it).

But See's intent is expressly political. The literary world, she
suggests, is still mostly the province of those "born and
raised in an upper-middle- class (or higher) family in New York
or New England" whose "grandfather . . . attended college
with Norman Mailer" or "grandmother . . . [went] to
that Episcopal church where Madeleine L'Engle goes," of Ivy
League alums and master's of fine arts program grads genetically
programmed to understand how the vast New York culture machine
functions.

Or, at least, it can seem that way when you're outside of it,
scribbling away in obscurity, as See once was. The book, she says,
is for "students just coming to this discipline, older people
who wanted to write in their youth and never got around to it,
folks who live in parts of the country where the idea of writing
is about as strange as crossbreeding a tomato and a trout."
Or, put bluntly, in See's refreshingly salty prose: "This
book is for the timid, forlorn, and clueless." Thus, she's
somewhat more interested in cluing in her readers to the thorny
reality of the publishing industry, offering nuts-and- bolts instructions
for negotiating the weird world of book and magazine editors,
literary agents, publicists and the like than in providing tips
on plot and point of view. (Though solid, the section on writing
technique is a bit thin.)

These days See, author of nine books, Washington Post book critic,
UCLA prof, recipient of a Guggenheim and so on, is something of
a literary grande dame, and she believes "with a patriotic
sincerity that would make a Legionnaire blush, that American literature
is owned by everybody in America and that world lit is owned by
everybody in the world and that we all get to have a say in it,
not just a comparatively few men and women in the Northeast."

"Making a Literary Life" is as much the story of See's
own attempts to carve out a
life for herself as a writer -- writing 1,000 words each day,
no matter how bad; sending off scores of notes to writers she
admired; selecting her homes based on their views; alienating
two husbands, both "failed writers," by the sheer force
of her ambition -- as it is a self-help book for writers. Her
foibles, which include posing as her own (nonexistent) publicist
and sending longtime Atlantic Monthly editor C. Michael Curtis
an envelope stuffed with family photos, serve as a kind of seriocomic
road map for the hordes who will identify with See's story, which
is, essentially, the story of a scrappy girl from Texas who made
herself into a writer through hard work, supernatural amounts
of chutzpah and, well, more hard work.
In the end, this emphasis on work sets See's charming, conversational
volume apart from the hundreds of other writing manuals crowding
the shelves of your local bookshop. Being a writer, she insists,
is in many ways a matter of working yourself into a role, of writing
those 1,000 words each morning, of educating yourself about the
business behind the books you read.

Early on, See tells the tale of Kay Boyle, a prominent writer
of the 1950s, who married a poor Frenchman at a tender age. "The
first place they lived didn't even have windows." Boyle painted
windows onto the walls, then scrawled notes to the well-known
writers then living in Paris, who soon became her friends and
invited her to join them in the City of Light. "She literally
wrote herself out of that windowless cave," says See exuberantly.

See pulled off a similar feat, and she's hoping, with a warmth
rarely seen in literary circles, that her readers will do the
same.

The Washington Post gives Making a Literary Life a rave!

The Write Stuff
Reviewed by Susan Isaacs
Sunday, August 25, 2002

"The author's chapter on 'Charming Notes' is one with which
this reviewer must take issue. As a Californian, Carolyn See acknowledges
the isolation of writers living outside New York. To counter this
loneliness and to get acquainted with literary types, she proposes
that you 'write one charming note to a novelist, an editor, a
journalist, a poet, a sculptor, even an agent whose professional
work or reputation you admire, five days a week, for the rest
of your life.' Even if a potential novelist can suppress ego long
enough to pen such a letter, to be either a devoted fan, sycophant
or cunning networker, that sort of writing dissipates psychic
energy better devoted to fiction. Also, it is difficult to imagine
coming up with 260 icons a year, much less thousands in a lifetime,
and being charming precludes salutations such as 'Dear Infelicitous
Poet.'"

Still, the would-be writer must find not only his or her narrator's
voice but also the good sense to know what tips will work in the
universe of the novel. So while one might want to give a couple
of See's helpful hints the heave-ho, Making a Literary Life is
a book to be treasured. It is only one writer's guide to the writing
life, but Carolyn See is one hell of a writer. And, it would also
seem, a generous human being. " - read
theFULL REVIEW

Get ready (grab pen), get set (pour wine), . . . now write!
BY MARGARIA FICHTNER

"Making a Literary Life may not provide all
the amenities, camaraderie, name-dropping and ego-withering critiques
of a summer at, say, Bread Loaf, but it may get you off your duff
and send you scurrying to your desk or laptop even if you have
no clue as to the finer points of 'voice,' 'character' and 'point
of view,' even if you have never written anything more literary
than a check, even if you happen to live someplace where `the
idea of writing is about as strange as crossbreeding a tomato
and a trout.'''

See, who teaches English at UCLA, practices it as a novelist and
memoirist and ponders it as The Washington Post's smart, unflaggingly
entertaining weekday book critic, has a good idea here: Let's
make writing easy! Let's make it fun! Key to her title and philosophy
is the word Making. The literary life is not something you can
buy, steal or inherit. It is something you must construct as carefully
as you would a boxwood maze, a ship in a bottle or a souffle,
something that requires time, discipline, patience, faith, a little
goofy white magic and the right tools.

See's book is divided into three parts -- Before, The Writing,
During and After. It is crammed with advice that often seems downright
motherly (See's two daughters are writers, too), as well as with
affirmations (''I am a powerful, loving and creative being . .
. ''), tips on how to behave (``. . . [N]obody wants a writer-jerk
in the family''), uplifting exercises (``If you're working on
a book, what's the title? Write it out nicely, on a good sheet
of paper. Be sure to put your name on as the author'') and helpful
lists of dos and don'ts. Here is a do: ''Every writer needs an
entourage . . . so that when your book comes out and you start
having signings, you won't be quaking with terror and sorrow in
front of a bunch of empty folding chairs . . . .'' And here is
a don't: ``Don't write what you know; write what you care about.''
Read the FULL REVIEW!

From "Writers' Carousel,"
The Writer's Center, Maryland (September, 2002)
by Judith McCombs
What's not to acclaim about Carolyn See's engaging, tenacious,
heartening advice to writers and would-be writers? I must be missing
something--Lord knows I'm not the gushing type--but after three
weeks of reading and talking about this book, I still can't come
up with a convincing complaint. See's pithy advice nudges the
novice and the stranded writer into reality--first, don't tell
non-writers how you want to write. Second, call up your own material--the
people and events that shape your life and imprint your dreams--and
if they don't look like what you think of as really worthy literary
material, so what? Third, write: a thousand words a day, five
days a week, for the rest of your life. No writing ahead, no catching
up--each day starts at zero. Two hours of heavy editing count
for a thousand words. Read the
FULL REVIEW.

Write On
by Charles Matthews

I don't think any book can teach you how to be a
writer, but novelist and critic Carolyn See's ``Making a Literary
Life: Advice for Writers and Other Dreamers'' (Random House, 265
pp., $23.95) could help you figure out if it's what you want to
do. Her book is a little bit confessional, a little bit how-to,
and a little bit rock 'n' roll. (She listens to Van Morrison while
she writes.)

Writing is something you must love for its own sake, not for fame
or money, because you're a dope if that's what you're out for.
(Even some famous writers obviously do it out of love, because
they keep doing it: Stephen King and John Grisham have more money
than they can ever spend, but they keep turning out books.) So
some of See's advice seems designed to test your love of writing.
Her No. 1 rule: ``A thousand words a day -- or two hours of revision
-- five days a week for the rest of your life.'' If you can keep
up that pace even when the rejection slips are coming in, then
you're in love.

See's rule No. 2 is: ``A `charming note' (that does not ask for
a favor) to a writer, editor, or agent you admire -- five days
a week for the rest of your life (or, flowers, lunch, drinks,
a helium balloon, etc.).'' I won't be doing that, but I see her
point: There's no such thing as a writing community. It's a lonely
business with lousy feedback. You rarely hear from readers except
when they want to correct, chastise or complain. The times when
they write to agree, to support, to encourage are so rare that
they make your day. When authors e-mail me about how much they
appreciate my review of their books, I get such a buzz from the
gesture that I feel like I can never again review them fairly.
(Hmm. Maybe I shouldn't let that get about.)

"This book is for the
timid, forlorn, and clueless," declares the author, who is
none of the above. Her chatty, breezy text aims to build the confidence
and coping skills of people who, like the 32-year-old Californian
divorced mother of two See once was, dream of making a career
as a writer but don't know how to go about it. Part One, "Before,"
offers a framework for getting down to work. The fundamentals?
"A thousand words a day, five days a week, and one charming
note written to someone in the literary world who makes your hands
sweat - five days a week, for the rest of your life." The
charming note, along with the cheerful replies to rejection letters
that See also mandates, make aspiring writers human to the jaded
New York insides who determine their literary fate: "like
everyone else in the world, [publishing professionals] like to
hang out with their friends instead of strangers." Sound
but unsurprising advice on identifying your material, startling
but not entirely flaky and straightforward guidance on how to
send out a manuscript round out this section. Part Two, "The
Writing," covers character, plot, point of view, scene setting
and construction, and revisions - it's helpful if not innovative
material presented with the sharp humor and judicious use of personal
anecdotes that enliven the whole. Part Three, "During and
After," is a must for first-time authors who don't realize
how much their successful publication depends on their efforts,
from throwing their own parties to arranging local bookstore signings,
and how short the time frame is. ("Four months after your
book is published, it's dead.") See's comments on magazine
writing - forget guery letters; send notes describing the piece,
then send the piece - are equally shrewd. "Living a literary
life is a marriage," she writes: romance is part of it, but
so is hard work.